


Rain Dance

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Bughead Stories [6]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Music, Romance, School Dances, Slow Dancing, bughead - Freeform, riverdale high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 16:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13861722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. Betty seeks Jughead after his father's arrest, determined not to let him pull away from her. When she finds him back at Riverdale High, they're both willing to start the evening over, attending their first dance together as a couple. Rated E for Betty and Jughead letting the music speak for them when they run out of words.





	1. The Dance, Deserted

I

Betty looked back and forth between Archie and Veronica. She was already feeling a desperate dizziness as she strove to find Jughead, to stick with him the way she should have from the moment they heard his father had been arrested. Now her two _friends_ ―the sight of whom frankly made her so furiously angry Betty struggled not to tear her own dress apart with the blind ferocity of Cinderella’s stepsisters―were suddenly on her side again? Bringing her a theory about FP’s framing? Imagining those two snooping around and concocting theories of their own was so baffling to Betty that she might have been proud if she wasn’t already feeling so betrayed.

Beyond words, Betty brushed past them, out the front door of Pop’s and into the rain that was once again trickling down. Tonight, Betty felt like everything had flipped; Jason Blossom’s supposed drowning in Sweetwater River had set the events of the past year in motion and now water was pouring down over them as a few tried to seek the truth, and most tried to hide it. Betty imagined Riverdale as a snow globe, inverted and shaken, clues drifting past on paths of their own.

The trailer. The closet. The gun. Why? Betty balled her hands in the pockets of her coat as rain beaded and raced down the sleeves. And where did Archie and Veronica _really_ stand? Could she trust them again after they’d gone behind not only her own back, but Jughead’s as well? The two that Betty had admittedly just about written out of the murder mystery narrative now slunk beyond her reach, shadowy foils of Betty and Jughead’s more ethical investigations.

Betty craved one normal night, just one night where dressing up on the outside didn’t mean becoming an uglier version of yourself on the inside. One night where having her boyfriend and his dad over for family dinner wasn’t a front for her mother’s around-the-clock interrogations and a chance for her closest friends to try their hands at breaking and entering.

She had been stomping down the town’s sidewalks faster and faster, her shoes filling and her fingernails only just resisting digging into the still-healing trenches in her palms, but now she stopped. Betty closed her eyes and tilted her head back until the raindrops beat against her face and snaked coolly back into her hair. She felt like Jason Blossom. She felt like she was drowning.

Betty lowered her head and continued on.

When she got to Jughead’s father’s trailer, Betty knew her boyfriend had been there. The lights were off, but the garishly yellow police tape hung limp, battered down by the rain, making Betty think of the wilting streamers she was going to have to go into school early on Monday to pull down. _Of course._

She found him at the school.

Jughead was reclining in a metal chair; the shining soles of his sneakers propped on the table in front of him were visible to Betty as she entered the gym. He looked up at her as she turned the corner and held her gaze as she approached. When she was near enough to read his expression, Betty was surprised to see that Jughead’s stiffness wasn’t from anger, but rather an attempt to not appear as in distress as he clearly had been before she’d arrived. The wateriness of his eyes and unnatural flush of his cheeks were Betty’s indications that he’d been crying. She sat down across from him, her eyebrows pulling together in concern and sympathy.

“I’m so sorry about your dad, Juggy,” Betty said softly. “Especially…” she started to get choked up and had to pause, “…especially after what I can infer he must have said to you about bringing your family back together.”

Jughead made a noise that was half derision, half despair. “It doesn’t matter now.” His head fell back as he stared at the ceiling. Betty wondered what he could see. She’d looked for answers earlier, outside, hopelessly and probingly, but had seen nothing but the underbelly of vast dark clouds.

“It _does_ matter, Jughead.” Betty reached impulsively for his hand, lying lifeless on the tabletop. She hoped the greatest victory she felt tonight wouldn’t be that Jughead didn’t pull his hand away when hers covered it.

“No,” he replied. Jughead’s free hand shot up, his fingers chasing the tears that flowed from the corners of his eyes and flicking them away.

Betty felt like her heart was breaking. She rose from her seat and came around to Jughead’s side of the table, keeping hold of his hand. She was about to sit in the chair next to his when he turned his head and looked at her. Jughead’s green-blue eyes were unreally bright, his mouth red, the foremost curl of his hair caressing the slight dip of his temple. To Betty, he was all teenage boy beauty and a pain that’s worse than physical injury: the pain of disappointment. She sat on his lap instead and when his arms came around her, it wasn’t mechanical or automatic. He was alone and he needed her.

Betty pulled the hat from his head, holding it at arm’s length to shake as much water from it as she could, then laid it reverently on the table. She took his face in her hands, dragging her thumbs lightly beneath his eyes to dry them, feeling his lashes wisp against her fingertips.

Embarrassed to have her the only one making an effort, Jughead pulled a Kleenex from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and turned away from Betty, blowing his nose thoroughly. He flung the tissue at a nearby garbage bin. Naturally there was one placed conveniently close; Betty was an exceptionally thoughtful organizer, even with her mind on so many things right now.

Jughead took a deep breath, seeming to recover from the worst of his upset, and looked at Betty. At once, she took his face back between her palms and pressed her lips to his. She wasn’t sure if Jughead had really thought of her this evening―obviously, his father’s potential incarceration was a much larger cause for worry―but she’d thought of nothing but him. And now she’d found him.

When she pulled back, Jughead’s fingers smoothed through her hair, which was now drying and twisting out of the straight style she’d forced on it before dinner. Dinner. Which now seemed like it had taken place at least a month ago.

Jughead brought her back to the present by glancing around and remarking, “It really looks great, Betts.”

Betty looked around too. The streamers had not yet drooped. All of the balloons were still fully inflated. Garbage had mostly made its way into the receptacles she’d artfully scattered throughout the large space. She turned back to Jughead.

“Thanks, Juggy. That means a lot.” She gave him a smile. “Though, it would mean more if you hadn’t decided to put your soggy shoes up on one of the tables.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jughead let out a laugh. “Actually, if you really looked you’d notice I picked a table without a tablecloth for the exact reason that I was taking your decorations into consideration.”

There was a squeak as Jughead moved his foot, highlighting the lack of coloured paper beneath it, though displaying the dirty puddle that had begun to form.

“Thanks?” Betty replied, her expression one of exaggerated disgust.

Jughead rubbed her back gently over her coat, then flicked his hand to get the water off. Betty unbuttoned her outer layer and shrugged it off, throwing it over another chair. His hand immediately sought the bare skin between her shoulder blades and Betty leaned into Jughead, resting her head on his shoulder.

She was still for a few minutes as Jughead’s fingers traced back and forth across the top edge of the back of her dress, but after the night’s surprises and subterfuge, Betty needed to clear the air.

“So, are we going to talk?”

“Uuugh,” Jughead groaned. Betty felt the sound vibrate in his chest and smiled in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

“I just want to tell you that I was wrong. I should have let you know that I was suspicious of my mother’s intentions with that dinner. What I said about not telling you because you were so happy is true, but that was no excuse.” Betty shifted carefully in his lap so she could look levelly at him. “I had a fight with her about it when I got home and made my feelings pretty clear.” Betty sighed. That was another scene she didn’t really want to face. Not tonight at least.

Jughead drew his chin back in disbelief. “And she was just fine with you standing up to her and then taking off?”

“I knew you would need me. And I needed you.” Betty lowered her eyes, hoping she didn’t sound selfish.

Jughead hugged her tight to him, resting the side of his face against hers. “I do. You’re basically the only family I have right now, Betty.”

The corner of Betty’s mouth twitched up and she pulled back so he could see her face. “That’s the same thing I told my mom.”

Jughead had the same sort of look he’d had when they’d initially spoken about the family dinner, but somehow his smile was wider, the joy in his eyes more evident. He didn’t ask her to go on, but Betty felt she owed it to him to show more of what she was feeling rather than less.

“Nothing was getting through to her so I just told her that I needed to be with you.” Betty’s eyelids dropped. “I said that you’re more like family to me than she is right now.”

Jughead shook his head, marvelling at Betty’s strength.

“I said that I had to be where you were because…” She looked into his eyes. “…I love you.”

Jughead’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open to speak.

“But,” Betty continued, “I should also tell you that I’m glad you’re not moving away yet. That probably sounds horrible since the reason is your dad being arrested, but I want to be honest. I love you and I don’t want you to go.”

She looked at him nervously and Jughead let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t want to go either. Everything that’s happened with my family has been on my dad’s terms.” He lifted his arm and ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, my mom chose to leave with Jellybean, but that’s just because of my dad. I don’t want him to separate us too.” Jughead took her hand and stared at it as his thumb smoothed across her skin.

“Somewhere you aren’t… isn’t the right place for me.” He lifted his head. Betty smiled at him.

“I love you too, Betty.”

Betty wanted so badly to kiss him, but judged that Jughead needed oxygen just then because of how much his heart was pounding where she leaned against his chest.

Jughead went on. “Riverdale is my home. I don’t want to run. I want to finish my book. It just feels like everything’s falling apart right now.” He shook his head.

Betty laced her fingers through his. “Hey.” She stroked the side of his face. “Not everything. We’ll solve this thing, Juggy. We’ll make it safe again, and then you won’t have to leave because your mom and your sister will be able to come back here.”

Jughead’s expression was bleak. “It’s not exactly going to be a Rockwell Thanksgiving with my dad stuck behind bars.”

“Well,” Betty looked down. “I ran into Archie and Veronica at Pop’s earlier when I was looking for you. They think your dad was framed.”

Jughead shrugged. “I think that too, but I’m not blind to the role my dad conveniently fills for these people. Why look any further for a scapegoat than the frequently unemployed, habitually inebriated, leader of the Serpents?”

“We can use that though, Juggy!” Betty started to get excited. “We make a list of who _would_ see your dad that way.”

Jughead snorted. “I can answer that right now: _everyone_.”

Betty shook her head, thinking. “Then maybe it’s not the right way to look at it. Framing someone is all about misdirection, so we can’t assume their motives will be straightforward either.”

“So,” Jughead pulled his feet off the table and let the bottom of his shoes smack the gym floor. “We ignore the usual suspects. It probably isn’t somebody who had that generic view of my dad that anyone in Riverdale could get from his reputation alone.” Jughead tapped the table sharply and repeatedly with his index finger. “It’s personal. Somehow, it’s personal.”


	2. Waiting No More

II

Betty touched her feet to the ground and jumped up. “You want to go start working on this? I bet the _Blue and Gold_ office is unlocked and we could―”

Jughead grabbed Betty’s hand, reeling her back in as she turned towards the gym doors.

“You’ve done enough for me tonight, Betty.” He smiled up at her gratefully. “We don’t have any concrete leads to add to the murder board and honestly, just knowing that three other people believe me―even if two of those people aren’t the most trustworthy right now…” Jughead frowned.

“I get it. You need a break.” Betty sighed and dropped her shoulders, releasing some of her frantic energy. “So do I.”

“Well then.” Jughead slapped his palms on the table and got to his feet. “Back to our regularly scheduled programming. I was supposed to take you to the dance tonight, was I not?

Betty’s eyes went to the ceiling and she shook her head, smiling. Jughead grinned at her, pulling her to his side and tucking her arm up under his. He guided her out from behind the table into the open area in front of the stage.

“Sound system?”

Betty pointed towards the wings. Jughead hoisted himself up and strode out of sight.

“Uh, Juggy?” Betty leaned her arms against the edge of the stage, craning her neck to make out Jughead’s shape in the dark recess.

“Yep?”

“Do you want my phone? I made up a few different playlists for the dance…”

Jughead’s laugh came rolling out to her. “I’m sure you did. I’ve got this though, Betty.”

A moment later, a clanking, pounding Bee Gees intro came flooding through the speakers and Jughead appeared back at center stage, smiling. At the sharp dee-dee-dee of the guitar, Betty shook her shoulders at him playfully. He stepped to the edge and jumped down, taking her hand.

Betty suddenly felt giddy. “Interesting choice.”

He walked her well into the open area, bobbing his head lightly and turning to look her in the eye as the song moved into the first verse.

“First of all, the theme of this dance is ‘Blast from the Past’, and the ‘70s definitely qualifies as the past, and second…” Jughead stopped to lip sync the words ‘my woman keeps me warm’ at her. “… you, of all people, _should_ be dancing.”

Jughead tightened his grip on Betty’s hand, raising it over her head, and spun her in a circle. She came back around to face him laughing. They continued on in loose, swirling movements, with Betty at first lip syncing then belting out every chorus.

Jughead laughed as he pulled her close. “Finally. This is exactly what I needed to cleanse my aural palate of your eerie rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’.”

Betty scrunched up her face at him and made an obvious move to step on his foot, which Jughead dodged. He drew her against him again as the song faded out, only to be replaced by a mellower tune, unmistakably also drawn from the depths of ‘70s discography.

“Juggy, do you have an entire disco playlist?”

He smiled and shrugged, not meeting her eye. Betty sighed and leaned back in his arms, trusting his hands on her lower back to hold her up.

“I used to do this in my room all the time. Mostly when something good happened, like when I got a spot on the River Vixens back in the fall. Or when you and I…”

Jughead raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t leave me in suspense, Betts. What song were you singing after we got together?”

Betty dropped her gaze and blushed. “Well there wasn’t just one, and they’ve changed over time. As more has… happened.”

Jughead whistled. “This is getting good now. I haven’t been this riveted since we found out just about every adult we know is implicated in this spider’s web of a murder investigation.”

Betty straightened up and stared at him flatly. “Oh really? So not since like… a couple of hours ago?”

He smirked at her sarcasm. “Really. I’d love to know.”

Betty’s face progressed from pink to red and, embarrassed, she pressed her cheek to Jughead’s shoulder, facing away from him.

Jughead shrugged carefully against her. “You’re only hurting yourself by not sharing.” One of his hands reached up to glide over her hair.

Betty remained silent, struggling not to smile as the smooth feeling of Jughead’s suit rasped softly against her face when he moved.

He sighed exaggeratedly. “Guess we’re going to be waiting through a whole lot more ‘70s music.”

“That’s fine,” Betty replied. “I actually like it.”

“You say that now, but wait til we get to the ‘YMCA’.”

She groaned and stepped back from him. Jughead’s hands settled on her waist.

“You really want to hear one of the songs I sing when I’m thinking about you?”

“Yes, the most recent one.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t renegotiate! This is _my_ secret to reveal!”

Jughead made a pitying noise. “You took too long to comply. I’m upping my terms.”

Betty bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to stop the smile that was breaking across her face. Jughead crossed his arms, staring her down.

“Fine.” She gave him a tough look, but when she stepped past him, walking towards the table to retrieve her phone from the pocket of her coat, she widened her eyes in horror at what she was about to do. She fumbled getting her phone out, her heart pounding and hands shaking, then turned back towards Jughead, trying to act normally.

He smiled at her and swept his hand in the direction of the stage. Betty kicked her shoes off, not wanting to attempt to climb up in heels when she was already so shaken by nerves. She planted her palms on the stage and was about to hop up when she felt Jughead’s large, warm palms grasp her waist and yank her off the ground. When he set her on the stage, Betty moved awkwardly, causing the shorter front hem of her silvery hi-lo gown to slide up her thigh, where Jughead’s hand came to rest an instant later.

Their eyes met and Betty’s heart skipped like a worn record at the fire in Jughead’s gaze. His fingers squeezed her thigh gently, then he let his hand slide over the curve of her leg to rest at her side. Betty got her feet under her and sped across the stage into the dark.

She scrolled through her music, finding the album titled “JJ.” Betty’s finger hesitated over the Norah Jones song. She wished she’d just played it without telling Jughead it had any special meaning to her; after what she’d said, hitting play felt like signing her own death warrant.

“Do I have to cry again to get you back out here?”

Betty leaned out towards the light to see Jughead lifting himself up onto the stage. Her breathing quickened.

“No, Juggy, just… wait there! Almost done.”

Shit. Now she had to do it. Betty’s finger tapped the screen with far more confidence than she was currently feeling in the whole rest of her body. The opening chords seemed to pound physically down on Betty, making her legs wobble as she walked to the edge of the stage. Jughead had evidently just finished pulling his shoes off and he hopped down ahead of her, offering Betty his hand and helping her to the ground.

“Jazzy,” he remarked. “I like it.”

Jughead took her hand and held it aloft, as though he were escorting a princess into a ballroom instead of his girlfriend across a gym floor permanently marked with red and blue for the school’s basketball team. Betty looked at him out of the corner of her eye and knew she’d take her understatedly handsome boyfriend walking her over the free-throw line over any sort of prince, real or fictional, any time.

He stopped and turned to face her, putting his hands on her waist, then drawing her in even closer. Betty looped her arms up around his neck, smelling the clean scent of Jughead-meets-rainstorm.

“A slow one, huh?” His lips brushed her hair.

“What were you expecting?” Betty answered softly.

“I don’t know. Taylor Swift or something.”

Betty laughed weakly, her heart thudding and her legs feeling weak.

“I don’t think that’s going to be the only surprise.”

Norah’s lovely metaphors slipped over them like Jughead’s hands on the back of Betty’s silky dress. When he didn’t offer further comment on her song selection, Betty relaxed into Jughead’s arms. This was the longest she’d ever spent in them, and Betty smiled at the feel of his body pressed so lovingly to hers. She let the butterflies in her stomach have their moment and felt shallowly thankful that on top of all of the other qualities he happened to possess, Jughead also looked killer in a suit. Betty startled herself when the thought of that same body _not_ in a suit popped into her head and the delicate muscles between her legs gave a desirous little tug in response.

She and Jughead had had so many other things on their respective and overlapping plates that there hadn’t really been time for… well, the sort of stuff Betty had on her mind when she hummed this song to herself. The furthest she’d come had been singing it under her breath at night as she watched the window across the street. Even then, she’d only imagined Jughead somewhere in that room, the recipient of her sultrily delivered line ‘I’m just sittin’ here waiting for you/to come on home and turn me on.’ Betty didn’t think she could have managed if she’d been able to see him over there. That was why the song hit home with her, because, despite her confidence in many other areas of her life, with Jughead, she felt like she needed to wait for him to make the first move.

And now she’d played the song that reflected that hesitation over the loudspeakers to him. Ironic.

Unfortunately, the return of Betty’s nerves coincided with the end of the song. She had no time left to spend thinking of something to say to mitigate the weight of the song’s message. No time to finesse it from a blatant, lusty plea into an inconsequential “I just like the piano.”

Before she could compose even that much of an excuse, Jughead stepped back from her. Betty sheepishly met his eyes, but Jughead was already slanting his face down and the next second, he had his lips pressed firmly to hers.

Again the little squeeze from up inside her as Jughead ran his hands up through her hair to cup Betty’s face. The gym was silent, yet Betty’s heart pounded in her ears like a drum. Her head began to swim as Jughead persuaded her deeper into the kiss. Lightheaded, Betty worried that her dress was too tight around her ribcage, for that had to be the reason her lung capacity seemed diminished. Her mouth kept moving against his anyway.

Finally, Betty lowered herself from her tiptoes, which she couldn’t remember reaching up on, and took a step away from Jughead. His hands stroked down her back, his fingers drawing a line parallel to the vertical stripe of her zipper. Betty let her hands run over his chest, dropping them to her sides when it seemed that touching him any lower would be indecent.

“Well,” Jughead started with a smile, “now I know what to expect.”

Betty looked at him with confusion.

“I want you to play it again, Betts.”

His gaze was gentle but sure. Betty just nodded slowly and rotated to face the stage. Adrenaline carried her back into the alcove with Betty hardly realizing how she got there. This time her hand shook, her finger leaving a smudge over the title of the song. For a moment, Betty leaned forward, resting her face on the cool wall, to allow some blood to flow back to her brain. She took a deep breath as the surge of adrenaline settled into a simmering giddiness, then returned to Jughead.

He was coming back from the table, where he had evidently deposited his jacket. He still struck her as incredibly, effortlessly suave―for someone in formal wear and sock feet. Jughead looked like he was trying to calm himself too as Betty watched him carefully unbutton and roll up his shirtsleeves to expose his forearms.

Betty dropped back to the ground before Jughead could reach the stage. She was now feeling equal parts anxious and excited at the thought of him touching her again, and the thrill running through her made her prolong their separation.

She stopped in front of him as, once again, the open chords sounded. Jughead took Betty’s hand and spun her in a slowed imitation of their movements to the Bee Gees track. This time, he surprised her by letting her twirl past 360, halting Betty when her back was to him. She looked over her shoulder at Jughead, but his eyes weren’t on her face; he was staring at the expanse of skin between her neck and her bared shoulder. Immediately, Betty felt as though her skin were tingling.

Letting go of her hand, Jughead stepped up behind her, wrapping an arm around her to splay his fingers from under Betty’s breasts to above her waist. Betty could feel the heat of his palm through her dress, then more as his chest came in contact with her back.

He held her against him, swaying them gently, and Betty let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder. The swing of their movements felt lazy and unconcerned compared with what Betty was feeling on the inside.

After the words ‘turn me on’ played for the first time, Betty felt a shift in Jughead, both physically and in some other way she couldn’t define. It started with his fingertips pushing against her a little more firmly. Then his other hand rubbed down her side to hold her hip. His lips touched her neck and Betty sighed against him. When her body came fully up against his, she felt the other change. Jughead’s hips were pressed to hers from behind, but so was his swelling erection.

Betty breathed in sharply. She pushed back against Jughead ever so slightly and he emitted a soft groan that seemed to reverberate through Betty’s very bones. Sighing shakily out, Betty turned in his arms, running the fingernails of one hand across the back of his neck as she reached up to hold him.

Jughead looked hotly down into her eyes and Betty nearly swooned. His hands slid over her dress, molding to the shape of her waist, her hips, and even daring to trace across the curve of her butt. Betty pressed her palm to his chest, feeling his heart pump back at her, then rotated her wrist so his tie encircled it. She grasped the tie just below the knot and tugged Jughead’s face down to hers, parting her lips to meet him in an open-mouthed kiss.

Jughead groaned and reflexively bunched the fabric floating over Betty’s hips in his grasping hands. The black lock of his hair tickled her cheek as he worked his lips against hers, nudging her face with roughening movements to pass his tongue into her mouth. Betty’s hand was on his back, feeling the way his muscles surged and tightened as he gripped her dress. Using the material of her skirt, Jughead held her securely to him, letting her know exactly how excited he was by keeping his stiffening dick trained on her abdomen.

His face drew back from hers as Jughead let out a pant. Betty trailed her lips slowly down his neck as his pulse raced on the other side of his skin, letting him feel the edge of her teeth. Jughead held her shoulders, his skin hot against hers and spoke with a choked quality in his voice. Betty leaned back to look up at him.

“Well, Betty, you got me feeling well enough to head home for the night.” He laughed softly. “And then took me right on past that, so now leaving here is the _last_ thing I want to do.” Jughead looked at her heavily and Betty smiled.

“I’m not really sure whether Archie’s going to be expecting me back tonight or not.”

“My mom knows I went looking for you, but I didn’t say when I’d be home.” Betty eyelids fluttered down as she rapidly flicked through possibilities in her mind. “I could call her and say I decided to stay over at Veronica’s.” She met Jughead’s gaze steadily.

He exhaled with a controlled slowness. “And, we could tell Veronica and Archie that we came back here to do some brainstorming after their suggestion about my dad being framed.”

Betty laughed. “Yes, those two will definitely be swayed by flattery. Nice touch.”

“On top of that, you obviously couldn’t stand the thought of leaving all the decorations set up until Monday.” Jughead’s hands smoothed over her shoulders to Betty’s upper arms.

“And you―” Betty gasped as Jughead fingers traced straight across the front line of her gown to run along the top of her breasts. “―just wanted a night of high school normalcy.”

Jughead nodded distractedly, dipping his fingers just below Betty’s neckline. “The best lies stick close to the truth.”

Betty fingers found the knot of his tie and began working the end back through the loop. “Of course, even disregarding all of those practical reasons to stay, it would just be wrong to leave the dance before anyone’s crowned king and queen.”

Jughead swallowed as Betty loosened the tie enough to start undoing the buttons of his dark blue shirt. “It would be bad form. Just because the rest of this town’s going to hell doesn’t mean we can afford to shirk anymore traditions.”

Betty nodded and added: “Unspoken regulations, really.”

“So you ready to go?” Jughead kissed her quickly, looking eagerly into her eyes.

Betty’s eyebrows rose. “But you just said we shouldn’t go…”

Jughead hands left her skin and Betty immediately missed them. He hurried to the table and back, pulling his hat down over Betty’s spiraling hair. He stepped back and appraised her.

“Close enough to a crown,” he determined.

Betty laughed. “I’ll grab our phones.”

“I’ve got the coats.”

Betty squeezed his hand with hers and they dashed apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case it wasn't clear, Jughead's song selection is "You Should Be Dancing," by the Bee Gees, and Betty's is "Turn Me On," by Norah Jones.


	3. Like a Lightbulb in a Dark Room

III

Necessary phone calls made and feet back in shoes, Betty and Jughead respectively clicked and squeaked down the hall. Watching Jughead stride moodily and with purpose through the halls of Riverdale High had always made Betty a little weak in the knees; the transformation of his brooding severity into a subtle smile in her direction when he passed her would have Betty gripping the unyielding open door of her locker for support. She cast her eyes down to the nondescript linoleum passing under their feet and smiled to herself at the thought of what a fool she’d been for him, and still was.

Jughead looked sideways at her and smirked, his hand tightening around hers. Betty felt torn between the elation of getting to walk _with_ him for once and the slight disappointment of not getting to openly admire him as he went by. She blushed thinking of the opportunity she was about to have to admire him up close and for a curfew-less length of time.

They stopped outside the storage closet that Jughead had previously made his temporary apartment. He’d explained this to Betty during one of their attempts to divulge any information that would make them uncomfortable if it were revealed by a drunken, vengeful jock at a hijacked birthday party. After Jughead’s birthday, they’d learned their lesson well.

Jughead jiggled the handle and kicked the door until it opened. It was finicky from infrequency of use. At first, the two of them stared inside in shock. Betty had never been in there before, but even she could tell that it looked exactly as Jughead must have left it. Her boyfriend traveled light and wasn’t exactly flush with possessions, so nothing physical of his remained behind, but the rumpled sheets on the floor (courtesy of the home ec classroom) covering the makeshift couch cushion mattress (courtesy of the teacher’s lounge) combined with other subtle clues to speak of the time he’d spent there.

For a moment, Betty was severely uncomfortable. It was a brutal reminder of the difficulties her boyfriend had faced. Stepping into the scene also made her feel bizarrely like she’d walked in on him with another girl, or like she was looking at a museum exhibit of the parts of his life she didn’t really understand. It was eerie.

“They never cleared it out?” She turned to look at Jughead. He shrugged.

“I’m not surprised. Nobody noticed when I was living in here, so why should they notice when it went back to being empty?”

He stepped into the cramped space and Betty let out a deep exhale she hadn’t realized she’d needed. With Jughead standing in there, the room instantly lost its horror for her and she followed him in, pulling the door closed after her when he flicked on the light.

“It smells like you.” She smiled, but Jughead narrowed his eyes at her.

“Thank you?” he asked uncertainly, turning his head and looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Betty laughed. “I don’t mean it smells like your dirty laundry or a slice of pizza you ate for lunch six months ago. It smells like _you_. It’s comforting.”

Jughead smiled, then pulled Betty into a tight hug, tossing their coats on the ground. She buried her face against his chest, pressing her nose to his skin where she’d started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Betty made loud, rapid sniffing noises to exaggerate her enjoyment of his scent and Jughead cracked up. Getting into it, she nuzzled up neck, making his head jerk at the ticklish sensation. Inspired, Betty’s hands leapt to Jughead’s sides and she dug her fingers in sharply.

Jughead jumped back, his hands suddenly out and clawed as though he were preparing himself for an MMA grappling match. Now Betty started laughing at his overreaction and Jughead relaxed back into a regular posture.

“I―” She gasped in a breath. “―had no idea you were so ticklish!”

“I… well…”

Betty raised an eyebrow condescendingly at the way his usual eloquence had abandoned him.

“Alright, fine. Let’s see how you like it.” Jughead grabbed for her and Betty took a quick step back.

“It wouldn’t work on me. My dress is too thick. And the structure―”

Jughead didn’t wait to hear her explanations, he just wrapped an arm around her waist and grabbed her side. Betty shrieked and struggled, tears pouring down her face as she laughed hysterically. She tried to squirm away, twisting around in Jughead’s arms, but was met with the solid barrier of the door she herself had shut. Betty decided to adapt her strategy, reaching behind her to go back on the offensive, but at the same moment, Jughead closed the space between them. Suddenly, it wasn’t a game anymore.

Her seeking hand touched down on the fabric of his shirt just above his hip and Jughead caught her by the wrist. He pulled her now unresisting arm up, pushing her palm flat to the door, where he held it still. His hand on her waist smoothed across the silky material, pressing to the curve of her side, then, after a short hesitation, sliding up to cover her breast. Betty’s heartrate quickened. She could feel Jughead’s doing the same with his chest leaning against her bare upper back. The position they’d stumbled into reminded her of how they had danced to the jazz song the second time. It was also _nothing_ like that.

Jughead lowered his head, dragging his nose and mouth teasingly up the side of Betty’s neck, giving her goosebumps. His motions were slower, but in the dim room, staring at the door, her sense of touch told her enough to know that he was mimicking her quicker, playful nuzzle of only minutes earlier.

“So, Betty.” His voice was low next to her ear. “How is it, getting a taste of your own medicine?”

The silent scream of hormones that were instantly convinced Betty had fallen into the _50 Shades_ trilogy demanded that she do nothing that would compromise the chance of Jughead bending her over and violating her where she stood. It took a minute for Betty to mentally tamp this down, time that was marked by her pulse throbbing under Jughead’s fingertips where he held her wrist.

Unable to verbally reply, Betty looked down and turned slowly to face her boyfriend, his hands falling from her to allow this movement. Her eyes darted up to assess his expression, widening when she read the honest need in it. Overwhelmed, she lowered her eyes again, knowing his stayed on her face. Betty smoothed a hand down Jughead’s chest in an unconscious calming gesture. Her gaze dropped a little further and she saw his erection pushing the front of his dress pants out, as if they were drapes being blown by a gust of wind. Betty’s fingers stopped their soporific caressing and clenched around Jughead’s tie. Before he could react to the change in her demeanor, Betty threw her arm around Jughead’s neck and stretched up to kiss him.

His hand came up to grip the back of her hair, serving the double function of supporting Betty as he moved in against her and keeping his hat from slipping off her head. Jughead’s actions were loose and eager, his lips communicating something urgent to hers. Betty could feel in his every motion that she’d ignited something fierce and desirous in Jughead. His hands moved to her waist, then rolled over her hips. She released Jughead’s tie and ran her palm up his neck to discover the slant of his jaw, her other hand tugging gently at his hair, so seldom uncovered.

Jughead wrapped his arms eagerly around her in a primal urge to feel her body against his, sending Betty’s mind reeling; she wondered if this impulse were a foreshadowing of how he would behave at the moment of orgasm. The muscles at her core reacted with a sudden, focused pressure like a small stone hitting water. Jughead loosened his hold around her, running his hands down her arms as he leaned back just enough to look into her eyes.

Betty shuddered violently under his touch and, locking eyes with him, pressed her damp palm to the front of his pants. Jughead startled, rubbing against her, at which point Betty made the concerted decision to spread her fingers, seeking out the shape of him through the fabric, and applying a light, stroking squeeze. In response, he pushed his hips towards her, kissing hotly up Betty’s neck. She drew her hand away, replacing it at the spot where his shirt disappeared under the band of his pants, and scrunching the dark blue material up until she could place her hand on his bare abdomen. Jughead groaned near her ear and Betty felt wetness escape from between her grasping muscles as they pleaded for the fulfillment of Jughead’s swollen cock.

Her hands went to the buckle of his belt, fumbling it open without the aid of her sight; Betty’s eyes were turned to the room’s ceiling as Jughead bit down on her neck just enough to make her skin tingle and increase the thump of her pulse between her legs. She got the two ends separated, but as she began to feel out the fastening of his pants themselves, Jughead decided to do Betty one better. He bent quickly at the knees and caught the hem of Betty’s sheeny silver dress. He jerked his head to get his hair out of his eyes in order to maintain eye contact with Betty.

Her heart seemed to tumble end over end as Jughead gave her the same shy, quietly proud smirk he’d offered the day he’d come to her bedroom wearing a suit to go with her to Thornhill. That day, Betty had been floored to see him so dressed up. Now, she wanted nothing more than to undress him.

Jughead kept his eyes on hers as he straightened, pulling the bottom of her dress up and letting the edge trail up her legs. Just below her butt, Jughead let go of the material, letting it pour out over his arms like water as he shaped his hands to the backs of her bare thighs. With a serious expression that challenged Betty to try to stop him―with one hand pressed to his chest under his partially open shirt and the other manipulating the rest of the buttons out of their holes, she couldn’t have been _less_ inclined―Jughead moved his hands up, feeling her ass.

Betty finished with his buttons, yanking the shirt up to untuck it, and drew a line down the center of Jughead’s chest with her index finger as he dug his fingers into her skin. Her stroke was as steady as if she were marking a connection between two items on their murder board. Betty slipped her fingers under the band of Jughead’s boxers, circling the head of his dick until he gasped, then withdrawing her hand.

Jughead pulled her forward, pressing their hips together as he found her mouth, shaping it persuasively with his own. Betty reached behind herself, sliding her palm over the back of one of Jughead’s hands, tangling her fingers with his to drag it away. It came willingly, the other hand making up for the loss by groping her ass that much more enthusiastically. One hand linked with Jughead’s, Betty brought the other up to get a solid grasp of his shoulder then lifted her feet off the floor, one at a time, to shake her heels off.

With her feet flat on the ground, Betty was as physically prepared as she thought she could be and guided their joined hands up under the front folds of her gown, placing Jughead’s palm between her legs. He moaned against her mouth and used one finger to hook the crotch of her panties to the side, rubbing the rest of his fingertips through her arousal. Betty let out a squeak, then broke the kiss, panting, as Jughead’s slickened fingers brushed forward over her clit.

He repositioned both hands on her hips, peeling her underwear down until Betty could flick them away to join her shoes. Jughead stared at the intimate garment lying on the ground and Betty watched a fiery blush spread across his cheeks. Suddenly, his eyes shot up to hers and he grabbed for her, hoisting her up to stack her thighs atop his hips. Betty gathered her dress up around her waist, unpinning it from between their bodies. She kept her pelvis tilted away from his while she got Jughead’s pants undone.

Meanwhile, he cradled her against him, until the feel of her fingers brushing against his dick made it impossible for Jughead to resist moving his hand so the fabric of Betty’s dress wasn’t a barrier to her skin. Betty gave the front of Jughead’s now visible boxers a downwards yank, smirking at him as she exposed his erection. He gave no sign, keeping his poker face firmly in place, as his fingers danced across the underside of her thigh to dip ever so slightly into her opening. Betty jerked in his arms, her eyes pleading for him to give her what she needed.

Jughead kept his eyes on hers and felt for her clit, wiggling his finger quickly against it. Instinctively, Betty wrapped her legs the rest of the way around him, her foot ticking up and down of its own accord as he played havoc with her nerves.

Jughead’s face was totally sympathetic, except for his smirk.

“What’s the matter? Ticklish?”

Betty groaned, letting her head bang back against the door. Jughead’s hand came up to hold the back of her neck.

“Finally some compassion,” Betty joked.

Jughead’s hand moved up to the top of her head.

“Just making sure you didn’t knock the hat off. That thing is the defining element of my entire identity.”

Betty’s head tipped forward and she glared at him.

“It’s the false leg to my Ahab. The embroidered ‘A’ to my Hester.”

Betty crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Jughead scrunched up his face in dissatisfaction.

“No, you’re right. There’s a better one I’m missing.” His removed his hand from her head to snap his fingers rapidly, encouraging the spark of inspiration. All of a sudden, Jughead smiled smugly, closing his eyes for a moment as he savoured what had come to him.

He cleared his throat.

“The portrait to my Dorian Gray.”

“Juggy!” Betty walloped him on the chest.

“Mhmm?” he managed through a chuckle.

Betty rolled her eyes and once more snatched Jughead’s tie, bringing his face to hers as if she were competing at tug-of-war. Jughead’s hand shot up to slap the door, bracing himself so Betty’s harsh tug didn’t result in either of their noses being broken, and kissed her passionately. His lips pulled roughly at hers and Betty reached between them, pushing Jughead’s boxers down enough to let her run her palm completely over his length. His dress pants swished to the ground without resistance and Jughead let them lie.

He gripped the underside of her thighs firmly where they met her hips, leaving Betty to maneuver his cock inside her. She took her face away from his for a second and a smile grew steadily on her lips as she observed his tousled black hair, open, dark blue shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, and mouth red from moving against her own.

Shifting her gently, Jughead leaned in to give Betty a lingering kiss on the cheek. His head moved back and he swallowed with the effort of focusing while Betty kept a loose grip on his dick, but managed to look at her with earnest eyes for as long as it took to say, “I love you, Betts.”

She had just aligned him with her entrance and murmured, “I love you too,” as he pushed inside. Betty’s muscles tensed angrily at the intrusion, but Jughead brought a hand to her lower back, smoothing soothingly across her skin. When she relaxed in his arms, Jughead widened his stance and thrust up into her, strong and slow.

“Uh!” Betty gasped as he opened her up, feeling her muscles clench thoroughly about him. Jughead let out a wavering breath and Betty felt his dick twitch deep inside her. When he began to draw out, she worried that her muscles would not let him go, so permanent did the connection feel. Evidently, her grip did force a considerable effort from Jughead, who panted, his eyes closed.

He bit his lip but the word, “Fuck!” slipped out. Jughead opened his eyes to give her an apologetic look, but Betty shook her head frantically. His mouth widened into a drunken smile and he slid back inside her, assisted by the wetness Betty’s channel was now expeditiously producing.

Encouraged by this new ease of movement, Jughead pulled nearly out and slung his hips forward, driving up into her. Betty felt her chest vibrate with a low, pleased hum, unconsciously made. A determined look on his face, Jughead continued thrusting at this hurried pace, Betty clutching the fabric of his open shirt deliriously.

Jughead’s fingers scrabbled hungrily for the zipper at the back of her dress, bringing it stop-and-go down her back. In his distraction, his thrusts became languorous and shallow, causing him to bump against Betty’s clit on each upstroke. Jughead brought her zipper to the end of its path, pressing his palm to her bare back. Thanks to Jughead’s unintentional stimulation of her clit, Betty was full of anxious energy; once her dress was loosened, she squirmed, pulling her arms free of the off-the-shoulder sleeves that had been constricting her movements all night.

Jughead folded the bodice down, cupping Betty’s breast as he began to increase his pace once more. Betty groaned as his fingertips dragged over her nipple and was thankful for the team effort of her fairly small breasts and the stiff, thick material of her dress that had allowed her to go braless.

She passed her hands inside Jughead’s shirt, stroking the taut muscles of his chest. When he simultaneously pinched her nipple and pistoned the head of his cock into her g-spot, Betty’s fingers became claw-like and scraped across his skin as she cried out.

Jughead’s tongue passed over his bottom lip and he moved both hands to hold Betty still as he concentrated on striking that spot again. Betty started to shake in his arms as he found it over and over, alternately digging her heels into his lower back and letting her legs hang limply over his hips.

“I―I―” he said.

“Metoo,” Betty rushed out, blurring her two words into one.

She reached for his face, kissing Jughead for as long as she could before her lips parted and she called out his name.

Jughead only managed a pant of, “Beh―” next to her ear before he came, but Betty had never heard her name spoken so sweetly.

As he heaved against her, Jughead’s arms did indeed come around to hold her in a secure embrace. Betty smiled weakly against his hair and kissed the side of his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

He pulled his hips back, drawing gingerly out of her. Betty bit her lip at the brief, sharp soreness, feeling strangely bereft as he set her on her gelatinous legs. She wondered what she should say to him now, but Jughead just confidently took her hand to lead her away from the door. On the first step he tripped and Betty grabbed him around the waist, laughing; Jughead had forgotten his pants were still looped around his ankles. He snorted and bent to pull them up as Betty slipped her arms back into her dress. Buckling his belt, Jughead looked at her, smiling, and Betty knew that her happiness had never felt more real.

* * *

 They stood in the dark at the glass front doors of the high school, looking out at the rain splattering down. For good measure, Jughead pressed his hands to the door’s bar, rattling it back and forth. There was still no give.

“I can’t believe we got locked in.”

“ _I_ can’t believe nobody heard us!”

Jughead shrugged. “I told you, Betts, that closet is like the Room of Requirements: nobody ever seems to notice it.”

“Looks like we have some more calls to make.”

She sighed deeply in hopeless acceptance and Jughead put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her cooling body against his warm one. Betty slipped her hand under his coat to press it against his back. Jughead turned and kissed the top of Betty’s head. He pulled back, making a face.

Confused, Betty reached up to touch her hair. She felt Jughead’s knitted hat instead.


End file.
